But the understanding of how athletics can grow great kids has me suppressing the mommy instinct to keep my kiddos under the safety of my own roof, and allow them opportunities to grow as people.
Nate wrestles for a small school, which means they have to frequently travel great distances for matches...which also means I don't get to go offer my support. (To say I want to go watch would be a lie...it's that maternal instinct kicking in again.)
A few months ago, there was a meet a little closer to home. The distance was manageable, and I could see myself going. (Again, that would be for support...not to watch.)
But as I started talking to Nate about going he stopped me abruptly. He said, "No, mom. Don't go." I was kind of surprised. (After all, what kid doesn't want their parents to cheer from the sidelines?)
Of course I asked why.
"You're not ready," he said.
"Ready for what?" I asked (imagining some kind of mommy boot camp to prepare before witnessing the brutal sport of wrestling).
"Well, most moms don't like wrestling," he said. "They don't like to see their kids get beat up." (Does he know me, or what?)
...So before you go thinking that's just another mommy moment story, I'll jump right in and say it isn't. It's a metaphor that fits my personality.
I don't like pain...mine or anyone else's. Any wonder my choice of a healing profession?
And, as with wrestling, I'll give all my support, but sometimes I think I just can't watch. When there's any red flag in my life that indicates there might be a problem coming, I sometimes feel like that annoying kid with their eyes squeezed shut and hands over their ears singing, "La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la....I can't hear you!" (So mature. I know.)
But usually after a while I stop screaming, and open my eyes, and take a peek, and figure out that the only way around is through...and I start to realize that the only pain you can't endure is the pain you can't to take to God.
I can't be more specific than that. Sorry. Just can't. Like I said, I was the observer in this pain, so it isn't mine to share. But I can say that families seem to be the perfect laboratory for learning...
And for forgiving, repenting, growing, and healing.
And at the end of the day I love my imperfect laboratory, and wouldn't trade it for any sterile, white, perfect laboratory in the world.
Never, ever.
Because I love what we become when we grow together as mortal beings engaged in this portion of our eternal experience.
And when I need a reminder, I look at this:
And this:
And when I look closely, I see a family that has formed and grown out of love, and a family that experiences joy...
And also experiences pain and imperfection...
And has grown together through roads that often feel like the end...
But are really new beginnings.
And when I look at it that way, I'd have to say that we're not very much unlike most other families we know.
It's a beautiful (and sometimes really bumpy) ride.
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